


a cliff insurmountable

by TemporaryDysphoria



Category: Lupin III
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Soft Boys, Sometimes you just wanna lie down and have an orgasm, Trans Goemon, Trans Male Character, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporaryDysphoria/pseuds/TemporaryDysphoria
Summary: It’s inviting, but not what Goemon really wants. He has an idea (Lupin would call it a fantasy), and he suspects that Jigen will be the best person to ask (not that he has a list of people or anything).“Iwanttobetakencareof” he mumbles, the words jumping over themselves in a rush to leave his mouth.Jigen’s eyebrow twitches, but the rest of him doesn’t move. He hums quietly.“That so?”
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	a cliff insurmountable

“Jigen, I-” Goemon bites down on his words, trying to articulate and stop the rapidly spreading heat across his cheeks at the same time. 

The gunman doesn’t move, but he does tip his hat back, and for a moment it becomes a stalemate. Goemon watching Jigen watching Goemon. His eyes slide down and Goemon’s ego preens at the knowledge that he  _ knows _ Jigen likes what he sees. 

A single raised eyebrow says more than a thousand words -  _ and _ it brings the heat right back into Goemon’s cheeks, much to his frustration. 

“Yes?” Jigen says, and Goemon doesn’t know  _ how _ he manages to pack so much into such a small sentence. 

“I,” He takes a breath, “I want to...”

Jigen holds his gaze steady, silently. Always waiting for Goemon to get his words out. He exhales through his nose and smoke comes out. When Goemon doesn’t continue, he swings around so his legs are no longer dangling over the arm of the sofa. Pats the pillow beside him gently. 

It’s inviting, but not what Goemon really wants. He has an idea (Lupin would call it a fantasy), and he suspects that Jigen will be the best person to ask (not that he has a list of people or anything). 

“Iwanttobetakencareof” he mumbles, the words jumping over themselves in a rush to leave his mouth. 

Jigen’s eyebrow twitches, but the rest of him doesn’t move. He hums quietly. 

“That so?”

He leans his head back some more, an invitation.  _ Come closer _ . So Goemon does, inch by inch, until he’s standing in front of the gunman's knees, close enough for thin fingers to slide up and down the fabric covering his thigh. 

“What do you want?” Jigen asks, his eyes now focussed on the path his fingers take over Goemon’s thigh, tracing the pleats in his hakama. 

Even the tiniest amounts of friction leave trails of heat in their wake. Goemon works hard to not move against the soft, gentle touch. He’s spent all day talking himself into this, he doesn’t want to run off track now, when he’s so close. 

“I have an idea,” he says quietly, as though talking softly will make the inevitable shit-eating grin on Jigen’s face take longer to appear. 

Those same fingers dig into the back of Goemon’s thigh and push. They leave him no choice but to spread his legs around Jigen’s. The gunman grunts when he pulls him forward and down, the aforementioned grin sliding itself across his face. 

“I’m listening,” he says, Goemon now sitting heavily on his lap. 

The sudden change in closeness makes Goemon’s neck feel hot. Jigen’s close enough to kiss, one hand steady on his hip, the other sliding up and down a taut thigh. He hates that Jigen makes him forget how to form sentences. 

The hand on his thigh stops it’s forward motion entirely. Goemon looks up to see Jigen’s dark eyes trained on his face. The cigarette gets removed from between thin lips and squashed out on the ashtray beside the sofa. Jigen rolls his shoulders and regards Goemon with a careful gaze. 

“Tell me what you want, Goemon.” 

Goemon opens his mouth and closes it. Jigen waits, ever so patiently. 

“Do you recall a vibrator? Fujiko bought it as a joke.”

Jigen’s eyes narrow at first, then widen with recognition. “Mmm, she didn’t like it.”

“I want to try it, with you.” He takes a breath and steels himself to admit, “But I have a specific scenario in mind.” 

He can almost see the corners of Jigen’s eyes turn up when he grins.

“Here? Bedroom? Bathroom?”

Goemon huffs, exasperated. “Bedroom, please.”

Jigen shifts his leg, making Goemon shiver. He taps a hand against a solid hip.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

They’ve lucked out with this hotel. It’s one of Fujiko’s regulars and it  _ shows _ . The beds are large, soft, and Goemon has yet to find a room that doesn’t have a television plastered onto one of the walls. Opulence beyond reasonability. 

Jigen kicks off his shoes and leans against the bed. 

“How we doin’ this?”

He stands there so effortlessly, with his tie loose, the top buttons of his shirt already undone. Goemon's hands stammer as they try to undo the knot at his waist. He looks down, the back of his neck burning, until big hands take over, loosening the fabric and sliding up and underneath his kimono. 

It’s not that he’s unsure. It’s not like he and Jigen have never fucked before. Hell, it’s not even like they haven’t fucked recently. But this feels different, because he’s asking for something. Asking for something that’s not his usual MO, even though Jigen’s never turned him down on anything yet. 

“Talk to me Goemon.” Jigen says against his neck, beard scratching deliciously against skin. 

“I’d like,” Goemon pauses, trying to sort his thoughts into a coherent order. He can see the vibrator in question on the bedside table. He’d put it there earlier (he’d been hoping). 

“I’d like to relax with you. I’d like you to be in charge of the…”

He motions with his head to the bedside table and Jigen’s hands slip free as he wanders over. He picks up the small thing with lithe fingers, inspecting it closely. The remote dangles down, held on by a thin wire. He hums, thumbing the remote and making the egg buzz in his hand. 

“You want me in charge?” He questions, grabbing lube from the top drawer where they’d left it a few nights ago. 

Goemon nods, before adding, “I want it - slow. I want to lie with you, build it up, to see if I can...”

Jigen hums, clicking the lid of the lube absently. He grins and nods in the direction of the bed. 

“I gotcha, I gotcha.”

Goemon lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

* * *

Any remaining nerves Goemon had disappeared once he’s almost horizontal. Jigen had turned on one of his shows in the background and had since returned his attention to a rapidly reddening samurai. He feels distinctly more naked than usual, even though he’s not, he still has his fundoshi on. The tiny egg buzzes against Goemon’s skin, and when he jumps at the contact, it makes Jigen grin. 

The gunman dances the vibrations down Goemon’s abdomen, pausing at the spot where he  _ knows _ Goemon’s clit lies under the fabric. The feeling is muted because he only has it turned down low, but it’s a promise of more. 

Jigen kisses him then, and his fingers slide under fabric to tease between his folds, slick with lube. 

“I’m going to put it in now,” he murmurs against Goemon’s lips, and sure enough, the next thing he feels is the hard soft texture of the tiny egg, pressing against his hole, until it glides inside and settles, noticeable but not uncomfortable inside him. 

He gives Goemon’s clit a token rub on his way out, making him buck up into the contact, before he pulls the samurai against him, letting his fingers trail up and down his side while he turns his attention back to the television in front of them. 

Goemon hadn’t really known what to expect, but he was pleasantly surprised regardless. Jigen was a warm solid expanse beside him, and the soft buzzing wasn’t as distracting as he’d thought it was going to be. If anything, the whole affair was closer to their usual post-sex activities - when Jigen was soft, pliable and spent, willing to be dragged down into slow kisses, without any pushback. 

Seconds turned into minutes, and it was only when the credits for Jigen’s show were playing that Goemon felt the slight increase in the buzzing inside him. Jigen’s thumb was poised carefully over the remote, and he nuzzled his way down to Goemon’s neck. 

“Can you feel that?”

“Mmm,” was Goemon’s unarticulated answer, as Jigen kicked up the pressure just so. 

It was an interesting feeling. It didn’t make him feel full, the same way that having Jigen himself inside him did, but it was a definite weight, and when he pressed down against his pelvis, it changed where he felt the vibration. 

Jigen flicked the remote again, running it slowly to its highest setting, before lowering it back down, and doing it again. It took all Goemon’s discipline to not thrust his hips, to try and get just a little more stimulation. It felt delicious, but it was echoing out to his clit, making it ache with need. 

The only redeeming feature to the quickly frustrating scenario was the fact that Jigen seemed to also be visibly enjoying himself. His underwear may have been loose to start with, but there was a definite tenting occurring, and the gunman groans minutely when Goemon palms over it.

“Is that okay?” he breathes against Goemon’s mouth. The vibrator loops in a pattern now, and Goemon’s hips are stuttering as Jigen kisses him slowly, free hand digging into his hip, holding him solidly against him. 

Goemon doesn’t bother answering, because he can  _ feel _ how wet he’s becoming, and he knows Jigen knows as well, when he dips his fingers lower, to slide between sensitive folds. He hooks Goemon’s clit between two slick fingers, now swollen and erect and when he strokes him it makes him gasp, and bite down a moan. 

The pattern itself is frustrating now, it doesn’t peak for long enough, and the small amount of time it spends at its highest point is pushing Goemon closer and closer to the edge. His fingers flex without permission and his eyes squeeze shut, trying desperately to reach that damnable cliff edge. Jigen chuckles at the movement. Goemon sucks in a breath through his nose and it just smells like sex and cigarettes. And he’d thought it was impossible to get harder. 

“Ji-gen.” He grits out, straining against the stimulation. 

The gunman squeezes his clit, and starts to stroke it in earnest, jerking him off with careful measured movements. He jumps when the vibrator stops moving. It’s still buzzing inside him, but it's no longer ebbing and flowing. He opens his eyes to see the remote lying on Jigen’s thigh, unattended. 

The gunman is palming himself with his free hand over his underwear, pre-cum visible through the fabric. His eyes are trained on where his fingers are joined with Goemon, stroking him in tandem. He groans and pulls his cock free; hard, red and leaking, and after giving it a few customary strokes returns his attention to the samurai.

“Get up here,” he says gruffly, pulling Goemon bodily over him, “come against me.”

He pulls Goemon’s hips down so that his clit rubs against the velvet smooth skin of Jigen’s dick, and that’s all it takes for Goemon to realise how much he wants to rut against something. Surprisingly the egg hadn’t moved at all, it was still buzzing away, sending tendrils of warmth up through Goemon’s abdomen. Jigen grabs the lube and cracks the lid. He squirts some of the slick liquid onto his hand, but is a bit too enthusiastic and ends up with a small puddle on his chest. He grumbles, but grabs the goop and pushes Goemon back. He has just enough room to slick himself and the samurai up before pulling him back down with a deep throated moan. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, and Goemon holds back a smug grin because Jigen only starts saying things like that when  _ he’s _ close as well. 

Everything is slick and smooth, and the friction is just right between them. It’s the kind of temporary blissful motion that Goemon wishes could last, instead of being a harbinger for the end of what they’re doing. He’s floating, barely caring that he’s making tiny huffs against Jigen’s neck, sliding closer and closer and then before he can realise what’s happening the cliff edge is right before his eyes and he’s shuddering. Peaking. Falling. He grits his teeth and chokes out Jigen’s name into his shoulder as every muscle seems to contract and relax at the same time. The gunman holds his hips and begins to thrust upwards in earnest, making Goemon whine with the excess friction. 

Jigen comes with a shattered ‘ _ fuck _ ’ and his grip turns to iron around the samurai, locking him in place as semen joins the slick sticky mess of lube and fluid between them. He fumbles between them for a moment and  _ finally _ the vibrations inside stop. Goemon slumps down, completely spent, uncaring that he’s smearing come and lube all over him, and probably all over the bedsheets as well. 

Jigen presses a sweaty kiss to Goemon’s forehead, chest still heaving. 

“Good?” he asks, and when Goemon stares up at him through his eyelashes, he realises that the gunman has the gall to look unsure, as if he hadn’t just given the samurai the equivalent of an earthquake orgasm. He pats Jigen’s side absently.The gunman doesn’t move, seems to be as boneless as Goemon himself.

“Very good.” Goemon closes his eyes, and kisses Jigen’s chest, the only part of him he can reach with his current energy, “Very,  _ very _ , good.”

Jigen chuckles, the sound rumbling around his chest. “We can do that again sometime.”

“Mmmm."


End file.
